


Between the Lines

by CallMeHopeless



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, 8th year, And harry loves it, Books, Bookworm Draco Malfoy, Draco loves muggle literature, Fluff, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Literature, M/M, Pining, Pining Harry Potter, all kinds really, eigth year, muggle literature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-05-28 22:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15059312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeHopeless/pseuds/CallMeHopeless
Summary: 5 Times Draco Malfoy reads works of Muggle Literature and Harry is completely smitten and 1 Time Harry does.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Because Reading Draco is one of my favourite things and there is not enough Nerdy Bookworm Draco in this fandom and I think we need moooore, who agrees?

 

> “There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”  
>  ― Jane Austen, "Pride and Prejudice"
> 
>  

 

Harry wants to groan in frustration. He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling a bit harder than he probably should, feeling a small pang of pain across his scalp. But Merlin, he feels edgy. He's perched on one of the armchairs in the 8th year common room, trying to concentrate on something – anything – besides Draco Malfoy who is currently lounging on the sofa across from him. He did bring his Charms homework but he knew that was a lost cause even before he sat down.

 

When Harry came back to finish his 8th year, he'd been miffed that he would have to share a common room with all of the other houses. Granted, he didn't have that much of a problem with the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws but he couldn't just shake off all of the anger and resentment and _hurt_ he felt when he was looking at Zabini and Parkinson and... Malfoy, could he? Well, that had been his argument after all. His and basically everyone else's had to share their space with a Slytherin.

 

They were told to get it together, that the war was over and to bloody well act like it. Reluctantly, Harry had to admit that McGonagall was right. It had taken them a week and an unhealthy amount of alcohol to get over their differences and Harry was fine with it all, he really was.

 

Until recently.

 

Harry liked sharing his space with the Slytherins. He found that Blaise was actually quite fun to talk to and Hermione seemed to like Pansy just fine. He'd even had one or two decent conversations with Malfoy in the two months that they had been 8th years together now.

 

And then someone had thought to introduce Malfoy to Muggle Literature.

 

If Harry ever found out who the responsible git was he'd hex them five ways from Sunday, he could promise that. Because Malfoy and Muggle Literature was the exact reason for his current predicament. Which was horrible. And so confusing. And quite frankly unacceptable.

 

He should be able to look away from the reading form of his child nemesis turned neutral classmate turned forced house member turned friendly acquaintance. He shouldn't be this captivated by how Malfoy's eyes widen slightly when he reaches a dramatic scene, sometimes accompanied by nervous lip-biting. Harry shouldn't feel warmth spreading through his whole body when a small private smile appears on Malfoy's face or when he starts moving his lips, silently forming the words in front of him.

 

The worst thing however, the absolute worst thing about Malfoy reading Muggle Literature is the running commentary that Harry just cannot not find endearing somehow.

 

Just in that moment, Malfoy snorts and starts to sit up a bit, cheeks starting to colour.

“Bloody wanker.”

“You alright there, Malfoy?” Harry finds himself asking before he can even think about it.

Draco doesn't even look at him, he continues to read but nods.

“Yeah, this stupid idiot is just too socially awkward to function.”

 

Harry nods and smiles softly, trying to look away from Malfoy's now upright position – _he must be getting to a good part_ , Harry thinks.

Another groan escapes Draco before he lets himself fall back into the cushions and buries his face in the book.

“Oh Merlin, how does this guy even bloody exist? You fancy her, you fucking moron. Don't make such a fuss of it.”

Harry laughs.

“What are you reading then?” he asks nervously. He's tried to talk to Malfoy about the books he's reading for a while now. He just likes listening to Draco talk about them. The fact that he has to ask the right questions first makes him somewhat nervous but the Slytherin usually gets bright eyed and excited whenever he is asked a question so Harry figures he is doing alright.

 

Draco lifts the book from his head, a strand of hair is catching between the pages and is falling loose over his face.

“ _Pride and Prejudice_ , by” Draco turns the cover to look up the author.

“Jane Austen,” Harry chimes in.

Draco rises an eyebrow.

“You know her?”

Harry shrugs.

“She is kind of a big deal.”

Draco raises his eyebrow.

“Really? This is so... old.”

“It's a Muggle classic, I think it's read in schools even.”

Draco nods and opens the book back up.

Harry is not ready to let the conversation go, though.

“Do you like it, then?”

 

Grey eyes find his hand there is a beat of silence before he nods.

“Yeah, I kind of love it. It's so,” he smiles his private smile and Harry can't believe that it's directed at him. Well, directed at the book but Draco is currently smiling at him. So he'll take that.

Draco shrugs.

“pure, I don't know how to explain it,” he finally says and then rolls his eyes.

“Though Darcy is a total tool.”

 

“Who's a total tool?”

Blaise interrupts them, sauntering in and sitting down at Draco's feet. Draco immediately throws his legs over his friend's lap and Harry is not at all comfortable with the feeling not unlike jealousy that slowly starts creeping up in him. And he does not want to start thinking about what it would mean if he started feeling jealous about Zabini having Malfoy's feet in his lap. No, sir.

“This bloke in this book,” Malfoy waves off and runs his hand through his loose hair.

Harry can't help but stare.

He lov- hold on. No. He's so not going there.

He thinks that having not slicked back hair anymore suits Malfoy is all. He does not love anything about it either way.

He's so engrossed in Draco's movement that he almost doesn't notice Blaise's glance in his direction. Or the knowing smirk. And what exactly the idiot has to knowingly smirk about is anyone's guess, Harry thinks.

“ _Pride and Prejudice_ , huh?” Zabini comments after taking a look at the cover.

“My ex made me read that once. You're not a Darcy fan then, Draco?” the smirk still in place.

Draco snorts.

“Are you kidding me? One, he is such an idiot. A moron. A dork. Super incompetent at basic human interaction, super socially awkward and has he ever talked to someone he was crushing on before? Because I think not judging by the way he talks to Lizzy.”

Blaise's smirk widens into a grin.

“Oh because you are so poised and cool whenever you are talking to your crush, yeah?”

Draco was about to continue rambling but that shuts him up effectively. His face darkens and a faint blush starts creeping onto his cheeks. He starts mumbling incoherent sentences but Harry thinks he can make out “untrue” and “idiot”.

 

Harry tries to look away, he really does. He even scribbles a few words onto the parchment in front of him in order to look busy. He feels like he is imposing on a private moment but it has not escaped his notice that Zabini has spoken of a crush as in present tense. As in Draco Malfoy has a crush right now. On someone. And if Harry didn't want to feel jealousy before, it was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. But he doesn't want to dwell on that. Not now. Not here. He thinks his weird and totally out of line feelings about Draco Malfoy are best discovered alone. At night. When nobody is around to witness his moments of weakness.

Definitely not now, when said Draco Malfoy is just _there_ and Zabini keeps shooting him these smirks and god, what the hell is he _doing_?

 

Harry thinks he should leave and is just about to pack up his stuff when he notices that Blaise and Malfoy are looking at him.

"What?" he asks, confused.

Blaise laughs.

"I just asked you what _you_ thought of Darcy's character."

Harry shrugs.

"I've read the book a really long time ago, yeah? Can't really remember."

Zabini nods.

"Well, any particular feelings toward socially awkward blokes, then who can be a bit arrogant and dumb and overall stupid?"

Harry look from Draco, who looks incredibly uncomfortable to Blaise, who just grins smugly and sighs. He feels like this is a trick question. He really ought to leave. He really...

"Depends. Are they cute?"

Blaise's grin widens.

"As a button."

"Does one realise that the dumb stuff they do and say comes from socially awkwardness?"

Blaise thinks a bit harder on this one and finally nods.

"I suppose when one is fairly okay with basic observation."

Harry nods.

"Count me in then," he says and really does pick up his homework then because his heart is hammering against his rib-cage and he feels slightly faint. He cannot even look in Draco's direction anymore and quite frankly? He is absolutely and totally in over his head. What the hell is he thinking? Crushing on Draco bloody Malfoy.

He almost flees the Common Room after that. Barely able to say good night. Might as well. He doesn't trust his knees to hold him steady anyway and he doesn't really want to find out what they would do if he had taken one last look at a blonde idiot who likes reading about socially awkward blokes with self-esteem issues. But Merlin would he love to live the life of a Victorian novel Heroine right now. Going to Balls, dancing with Mr. Darcy... well maybe not at the beginning of the novel. But later on. Only that he would not want to dance with Mr. Darcy either. Harry shakes his head. He's going mad. Completely and utterly mad. Stupid Muggle literature. Stupid Malfoy. Stupid bloody Romance Novels.

 

 


	2. Two

> "Now, in their love, which was stronger, there were the seeds of hatred and fear and confusion growing at the same time: for love can exist with hatred, each preying on the other, and this is what gives it its greatest fury."
> 
> \- T.H. White, _The Once and Future King_
> 
>  

Harry knows that he's being absolutely ridiculous at this point. Lurking around the Common Room, trying to 'accidentally bump' into Draco. Ron even goes so far as to call him pathetic. Which, Harry has to admit, is a fair point. So he does what he thinks is the only sensible action to take and agrees to a friendly game of Quidditch with his fellow classmates. He thinks the fresh air will do him good. He hasn't flown for a while and he has quit the team after all so why not have a bit of fun, eh?

 

He'll tell you why not. Because as soon as he is in the air, on the lookout for the Snitch, he spots something entirely different. Something he would have loved to see in any other context and which makes him mutter a very heartfelt “fuck” under his breath in these circumstances. He will absolutely not have Ron call him pathetic again just because Draco Malfoy is sitting – nay, lounging – in the Quidditch stands, reading a book. The sun is bouncing off his perfect hair and he looks so absolutely beautiful in the sunshine that Harry momentarily forgets why he is here until Dean shouts at him and the Bludger misses him by an inch.

 

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. _Okay_ , he thinks, trying to calm himself. _Game first, flirting second_. Or whatever the hell it is he thinks he's doing anyway. He peels his eyes away from Draco and instead focuses on catching the Snitch. At least he tries. His eyes dart into Draco's general direction more than once and he is more than happy when he's finally caught the bloody ball, but his team mates seem happy. And that's important, right?

Ron takes the small golden ball from him, shaking his head.

“Mate, you are bloody whipped.”

Harry nods. Looks up to where Draco is still immersed in his book and clenches his jaw.

“I know. It's horrible.”

Ron chuckles.

“Doesn't have to be. I mean, talk to him, yeah?”

“I try.”

A small smile appears on Ron's face.

“Try harder. Don't be like me. Don't wait as long as I did with Hermione, it's bloody exhausting.”

Harry is about to respond when Ron turns to him and continues:

“For me. Having to watch this,” he points between Harry and Draco, “is agony. Do something.”

And with that he leaves.

Harry runs his hand through his hair and sighs. He gets back on his broom and albeit a bit shakily, flies back up to where Draco is still sat. For a moment, he admires the soft breeze mussing up Draco's usually so immaculate hair which falls in soft waves around his face. The sun is highlighting his cheekbones and Harry's breath catches the nearer he comes by how beautiful Draco looks.

 

Draco doesn't even look up when Harry hovers right next to the stands and Harry starts feeling awkward. Just when he is about to turn around however, Draco mumbles.

“Hold on Potter, just finishing the page.”

Harry nods and scratches the back of his neck feeling a bit unsure of himself. He catches a glimpse of the cover. _The Once and Future King_ by T. H. White.

He's never heard of the book before but before he can dwell on that, grey eyes are on his and he feels like all the air has been knocked out of him. _Pathetic indeed_ , he thinks.

“So, Potter, whats up?” Malfoy asks, placing a piece of parchment between the book pages to mark his place before shutting the novel closed.

Harry shrugs, hoping to appear nonchalant.

“Nothing, just saw you and thought I'd say hey.”

Draco looks at him but says nothing, which unnerves Harry to no end.

“Well?” Draco finally prompts.

“Well what?”

“You said you wanted to say 'hey'. I'm waiting, Potter.”

Harry splutters.

Which of course is super uncool, not to mention unattractive but he isn't really famous for his eloquence in these kind of situations, now is he? Not according to Ron at least.

He is saved by his attacker anyway, as Draco waves his hand in the air dismissively.

“Relax, Potter, I'm taking the piss.”

He grins and Merlin, but if that isn't the most beautiful grin on planet earth. Open and honest and Harry could die happy now that this sort of grin has been directed at him.

Harry nods and swallows thickly.

“Tell me about your book,” he demands, desperate for a distraction of any kind.

 

Draco eyes him for a second, gaze dropping to his broom still hovering in mid-air before he crosses his legs. How anyone could have such gorgeous legs, Harry will never understand. Especially when thinking about his own knobbly knees hiding underneath his Quidditch gear.

Draco pats the spot next to him on the bench.

“You might as well sit, Potter. If we're having a proper _chat_ and all.” Draco sighs but the corner of his mouth peaks up a bit in amusement, which does not escape Harry.

"Have you been playing Quidditch?" he asks while Harry lets himself glide onto the stands. Harry looks at him incredulously.

"You were here the entire time!"

Draco just shrugs. "I was reading. I didn't really notice. Or care."

Harry nods, running both of his hands through his hair out of nervousness and also to tame it somewhat. Not that it helps, mind.

Draco smirks at him when he dares to look back up.

“Still haven't gotten around to the hair product isle down the store, have we?”

Harry's ears turn red at the tips but he rolls his eyes.

“I'll have you know that 'artfully tousled' is very much en vogue, Malfoy.”

The smirk widens as Draco points at his own hair.

“Artfully tousled,” he says before he points at Harry's head, “plain messy.”

Harry takes another look at the platinum blond waves falling down just below Draco's ear in soft waves, shorter at the sides and parted on his left side.

He does the only thing that comes to mind, he shrugs.

“Fair point,” he says and then takes it even further: “you do have fantastic hair.”

 

Harry had hoped to fluster Draco at least a little. Have the bastard a taste of his own medicine. Instead, the smirk changes into a soft smile before he picks up his book and holds it up for Harry's inspection.

“So, the book,” he says.

Harry nods.

“What is it about?”

Draco's smile widens.

“Sometimes I think it's about you.”

“Huh?”

Draco laughs and opens the book at a seemingly random place, letting his fingers caress the page and the printed words on the page almost lovingly.

“It's... it's well, are you familiar with the Arthurian legends?” Draco asks and Harry nods.

“Well, this is about him. Prince Arthur. As a kid. And how he grows up without parents and how he grows up to be this strong personality who is kind and brave and loyal and who is able to pull the sword out of the stone,” Draco's voice turns soft as he flips through the book, not once taking his eyes off the pages.

Harry knows he's openly staring but he finds himself mesmerised by the boy in front of him once more. The wind has picked up strands of blond hair again, letting them dance in the wind. The sunlight catches in Draco's eyelashes and Harry's gaze drops to Draco's full lips more than once as he speaks.

 

“He has to fight through a lot and he isn't really given a choice but he does it anyway because he's a sodding idiot who just does what's right. And he has a lot of enemies and a lot of absolute horrible stuff happening to him... some of them from people he thought he loved. And then he has people who absolutely do love him. Truly and unconditionally...” he stops there, trails off, looks up and if Harry didn't know better he'd think that Draco's eyes have become a little glassy.

 

He therefore decided to lighten the mood. It's the only thing he knows how to do really, not able to even comprehend half of the things that Draco just said in regards to the hero being like him, Harry, Just Harry.

 

“Aw, Malfoy, didn't know you thought so highly of me to compare me to a prince.”

 

The spell seems broken and Draco snorts in amusement.

“Sod off, Potter. I was only comparing him to you because you too have grown up without parents and fought a war. And that,” he looks pointedly at him, “is where the similarities end.”

Harry mumbles: "Bet your Prince Arthur isn't as good at Quidditch as I am."

Draco actually laughs out loud and says: "Bet my Prince Arthur would've caught the Snitch much, much quicker than you did before. The bloody Snitch was fluttering right beside your head for about 10 minutes and you didn't even notice you idiot."

Harry looks at Draco then, grinning. His heart hammering against his chest violently.

"I thought you hadn't been watching."

A violent blush creeps its way onto Draco's face yet somehow Draco still manages to look unbothered.

"Might have looked up once just to see what all the ruckus was about. Merlin but you Gryffindors are a loud lot, aren't you?"

 

Harry smiles despite himself and lets his eyes roam over the empty Quidditch pitch. The sun is slowly going down and the sky is turning a weird shade of orange and pink.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, Malfoy.”

 

The next time he looks over to look at the Slytherin, the small private smile is back in place as he is regarding the cover of the book with a loving gaze.

 

“I reckon they'll be serving dinner soon, do you want to go inside?”

 

Harry doesn't know why he asked. He seriously doesn't. This, sitting here next to Malfoy while the sun is going down, just the two of them is pure bliss. And yet, the intensity of the situation just hit him so hard that he finds it difficult to breathe properly. What is he doing? Merlin but he wants Malfoy. In any way possible. And if that isn't the scariest thought since Voldemort being back, he doesn't know what is. His insides turn and twist and he isn't sure he has ever felt such an intense emotion for another human being in his life and the thought quite frankly scares the shit out of him.

 

So he does the only thing he can think of. He runs away.

 

He is glad when Draco nods and stands, picking an invisible lint off his trousers.

 

“Sure, Potter, let's go to dinner,” he smirks again and walks past Harry, looking at him suggestively.

 

Harry closes his eyes for a second to breathe. In. And out.

 

 _This boy will be the death of me_ , he thinks, before he follows Malfoy back to the castle.

 


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit angsty, folks :) I hope you'll like it!
> 
> Thank you AP for giving me better-sounding words, my friend!
> 
> And thank you Thirdeyeblinkings for giving me book title and crying!Draco!

> "Once there was a tree, and she loved a little boy."
> 
> \- Shel Silverstein, _The Giving Tree_

 

After their encounter in the Quidditch stands, Harry has a spring in his step. He smiles more. He feels a nervous energy around him that makes him believe he can move mountains. Talk about pathetic now, huh?

 

He had hoped to talk to Malfoy in one of their classes but somehow, the boy had managed to disappear right after Potions and Charms, not even waiting for his friends as he normally did. Harry's first thought had been that Draco was up to something but of course those days were long gone so instead, he had begun to worry that something was wrong. Watching the other Slytherins however, made him relax as they laughed just as freely as they always did and Harry figures that they would surely be more distressed if Malfoy was unwell, right?

 

Still, he decides that he is going to consult the Marauder's Map after lunch. Not to... be creepy. But to... you know. Make sure that Malfoy is okay and everything. He itches to go to his dorm room and get the map right away but Ron is already eyeing him suspiciously and if he asks “You alright, mate?” one more time, Harry might hex him.

 

So he does what every good friend would do and accompanies his best mate to lunch. Which isn't his best idea, honestly.

 

“So how's things with Malfoy going?” Ron asks while trying to push a whole sausage into his mouth.

“Yes, Harry, how's things with Malfoy going,” Seamus immediately parrots, shit-eating grin on his face. Even Dean looks interested.

Harry shoots Ron an icy glare before trying for nonchalance while continuing with his lunch.

“There's no things with Malfoy.”

“Not what we see,” Dean says and is obviously taken aback at having spoken out loud.

“Sorry, Harry,” he mumbles, “it's just, er, you're a bit obvious, yeah?”

“ _So_ obvious,” Seamus nods enthusiastically, as does Ron while still chewing.

Harry sighs and just accepts that he'll get to his sta- making sure that Malfoy is okay a bit later than originally planned.

 

_____  
  
The map shows Draco to be at a standstill near the lake and Harry doesn't waste any time in getting there. He feels like he hasn't seen the white-blond hair in forever (well, a couple hours) and immediately feels his heart swell when he lays eyes on him. Draco is sitting against a tree, head leaned forward, book in his lap and Harry is relieved. He knew he would be fine but now he knows- _knows_ that he is.

 

 _Of course_ , Harry thought, _How could I have ever thought he would be doing anything other than read?_

 

Smiling, he walks towards Draco. When he's only a couple of steps away, he softly says:

“Hey.”

He figures they could maybe have a chat. He could ask Draco about his book. Maybe have a Seeker's game if Draco is up to it later? If there is absolutely nothing they can talk about, Harry thinks he can always ask Draco about classes, about homework. He just wants to talk to him for a little while. What he doesn't expect, however, is that when Draco looks up at him, startled like a deer in the headlights, he is crying. His cheeks are tear stained, his lips red and slightly parted and his eyes glassy.

 

“Oh.”

 

Harry wants to hit himself over the head for his incredibly stupid remark but he can only stare. Draco quickly looks down again and a soft sob escapes him.

“What do you want, Potter?”

Harry doesn't quite know what to do.

He knows what he wants to do and that is hold Draco until all of the sadness has gone away and never let go. Ideally. Of course, he can't do that. Or can he?

He crouches down next to him, tries to look at Draco's face.

 

“Are you crying?”

 

He wants to hit himself again. He will have to become more eloquent in these kinds of situations. Maybe he ought to get himself a self-help book. He'll have to ask Hermione about that.

 

A hollow laugh escaped Draco and it's only then that Harry notices that Draco's hands are shaking and with them, his book.

“No, Potter, I'm not crying, you are,” he mutters before wiping at his eyes with one of his sleeves.

 

Harry smiles.

He lets himself fall back and mimics Draco's sitting position, leaning against the tree. He slowly shuffles closer.

“Don't be alarmed, Malfoy. I am going to hug you now.”

 

Before he can overthink it and before Malfoy can protest, Harry wraps his arms around the Slytherin, closes his eyes and holds on tight.

 

He waits for Draco to push him off, waits for a biting remark or anything really. But apart from the initial “humph” at being manhandled, it doesn't come. After a few seconds, he feels Malfoy's arms sliding around his mid section and his head is nestled on his chest. Harry smiles. He desperately wants to place his head on Draco's mainly because it's _right there_ and because he feels like he could use the extra support; his head feels about to burst. As does his heart if he's honest. But he sits still and listens to the soft sniffles against his chest. Harry moves his hand and traces slow circles all over Draco's back, making him shiver.

 

“Why are you upset?” he asks.

 

There is a long pause and Harry just wants to tell him _never mind, I am here for you no matter what, you don't have to tell me_ , but then Draco speaks.

 

“You'll laugh.”

 

“Won't.”

 

“I'll hex you, if you do,” Draco replies but its without any bite.

 

He holds up the book he'd been reading a bit awkwardly due to their position and Harry takes it from him. He's sad that he has to stop caressing Draco's back because let's face it, chances of him finding Malfoy like this again aren't very high, are they? Harry takes a look at the cover and then takes a look inside.

 

“Er... are you... crying over a picture book?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Seriously, is this a picture book for... children?”

 

Harry looks at the illustrations and starts reading while he feels Draco's hold on him tightening ever so slightly.

 

“even more than she loved herself,” Draco mumbles and Harry looks down at him.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Read the book, Potter,” Malfoy says and buries his face in Harry's shirt.

 

Harry reads and when he's finished only a little while later (because it actually is a picture book for children), he is at a complete loss.

 

“Malfoy...”

 

Draco says nothing for a while, and then.

 

“The tree gave and gave and gave until she couldn't anymore. And then when he came back after hurting her over and over and over again she was still happy. How could she still be happy.”

 

Instead of replying, Harry places the book on the grass next to him and runs his hand through his hair before wrapping it around Draco again.

 

“Because she loved him unconditionally.”

 

That makes Draco sit up. He looks at Harry through his still damp eyes with absolute wonder. They are wide and searching and so very grey that Harry feels incredibly insecure all of a sudden.

 

“What?” he finally asks, not able to be under that sharp gaze any longer.

 

For a moment, Draco doesn't say anything and when he finally does, his voice catches:

“Don't pretend you're so bloody wise, Potter. It doesn't suit you.”

 

Harry grins, wide.

“And, he's back,” he chuckles.

 

Draco slowly returns the smile and sits back against the tree. He rubs at his eyes again.

“Unconditional love, seriously. Such complete and utter-”

 

“You know I'm right, Malfoy. It's what you want. It's what everybody wants in this world, really. Being loved unconditionally,” Harry says, leans his head against the tree and closes his eyes. Partly because he's incredibly tired all of a sudden and partly because he can't believe he's just said that and cannot stand to look at Draco right now.

 

He can hear his snort, however.

“You wish. Physical connections and power is all we Malfoys need, you know?”

 

It's Harry's turn to snort, only that he suspects that it doesn't sound at all adorable when he does it.

“Of course. Your need for physical connections is the sole reason for you crying over children books, is it?”

 

“That was my frustration at not understanding the concept displayed in the book.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Harry cracks his eyes open and catches Draco grinning at him, a strand of hair falling over his right eye. Before Harry can even think about it, his hand is already pushing it out of Draco's face. 

Harry freezes but Draco just smiles one of his small private smiles he has usually reserved for special parts of his books.

 

“Well then, I suppose this is the part where I tell you that I will absolutely kill you if you tell anyone about this?” Draco asks.

“Ex-Death Eater and you should be scared of me and all that, yeah?”

The smile is still in place but it has this sad edge to it that Harry doesn't like at all.

He nods solemnly.

“I promise oh big bad Slytherin that I shall not tell a living soul about your emotional outburst over unconditional love in a children's book.”

 

Draco nods.

“I thank you, good sir.”

He leans back against the tree and is silent.

 

Harry decides to mirror him, not ready to leave. Not ready to give this moment up. Not ready to leave this little bubble he feels they have created, sitting against a random tree fingers and shoulders and thighs only a couple of inches apart. And if Harry's fingers brush Draco's once or twice, well then you can't really blame him, can you?

 


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, babes! Exam time, you know how it is... I hope you'll enjoy this one :) I know I enjoyed writing it! Bringing a bit of good old fashioned misunderstanding into the mix!

 

 

> “When someone loves you it's like having a blanket all round your heart...”
> 
> \- Helen Fielding, Bridget Jones' Diary

 

Harry tries to let it go, he really does. But he just... can't. He knows his crush is getting unhealthy, he does. But he simply cannot stop remembering how Draco felt in his arms. How their hands felt brushing against each other softly and how Harry hates himself for not letting his hand stay but immediately taking it back whenever they touched.

He should have let it happen. Would Draco have pulled away? Would he have laughed at Harry?

He hadn't looked like it.

 

Harry also can't get over the fact that Draco cried over children books. Over this one in particular and he finds it so terribly endearing that he unconsciously bites his lip every time he thinks about it to keep from smiling like a lunatic. Needless to say that his bottom lip feels very sore by now.

 

 _Unconditional love_ , he thinks. Harry thinks of his parents, of Ron, of Hermione, Sirius, Molly and so many more and asks himself if Draco really doesn't know the feeling. He has the overwhelming desire to _show_ Draco and huh, that is a scary thought.

 

While he is fairly okay with thinking about his crush now – and identifying it as such - he really doesn't know if he is quite ready to think of it as love. Unconditional love at that. Except for when his brain just does, without asking his permission.

 

He is still wrapped up in those thoughts when he walks into the common room and is greeted by a huge commotion.

 

“Dear diary,” Pansy loudly says into the room. Some eighth years are gathered around the fire place and snigger at her theatrical display. Harry's eyes immediately land on Draco, who sits on the edge of one of the sofas, scowling and holding a book up to his face. Pansy throws herself onto his lap and dramatically places a hand over her heart before continuing:

“must absolutely stop thinking about _him_ constantly,” she drawls, “must also not bother friends with frequent ramblings about his soft-looking hair, beautiful sparkling eyes and delicious chest.”

She lets out a giggle and Harry hears Ron snort.

He has no idea what is going on but Draco looks absolutely mortified. He tries hiding behind his book but Pansy snatches it from him, leaning against him and batting her eyelashes.

“Chest that I have seen naked _once_ after Quidditch match by accident. Am no pervert,” she continues and now even Hermione has started giggling.

Harry is at a complete loss. What is happening? And who the hell is Pansy talking about? He is quite sure that the verbal diary entry is supposed to be for Draco, which irks Harry to no end. Harry has known that Draco apparently has a crush on someone – according to Blaise – but Harry didn't have any specifics until now. Not that he has real specifics now, only that it is a boy (which, thank god) but also that it seems to be a fellow Slytherin. Who else could Malfoy have seen half naked after Quidditch? The thought makes Harry's heart sink. Draco has a crush on a Slytherin, then. Crush on a Slytherin.

 

“Pansy, stop,” Draco grits out, squeezing his eyes shut. Pansy, however, has a mischievous glint in her eyes and does no such thing:

“Must make a move in order to not make a fool of myself. Must also stop wondering what he looks like in his underwear – or out of it.”

“Pansy!”

Draco is flushed and stares her down evenly.

“Stop it!”

She just giggles.

“Mother will have fits when she finds out about impure thoughts, e.g. him clothe-less or shagging him, which I think about a lot...”

Harry is quite sure that she would have more to say but Draco presses his hand to her mouth and hisses:

“Shut the fuck up, you irritating bint.”

Harry thinks that Draco must be seriously angry. He is usually so composed and calm. Pansy still looks amused. Draco pulls his hand off her a second later with a loud “ew! You licked me!”

“Sorry, darling,” she says, fixing her hair, “I will absolutely not have you shut me up like that.”

 

He shoots her another poisonous look before his eyes land on Harry and immediately go to the floor.

Harry actually thinks that he can hear a muttered “fuck”, but when Pansy looks up and spots him, she just falls into another fit of laughter.

“Hello, Potter, how long have you been standing there?”

 

He tries for nonchalance. Trying not to show the deep sting of hurt that finding out about Draco's Slytherin crush had triggered.

“Couple seconds. What's everyone up to?”

Ron's head turns and he is wearing a very gleeful expression.

“We're mocking Malfoy for reading _Bridget Jones_ ,” he says.

Harry smirks.

“He wanted something lighthearted,” Hermione says in a defensive tone, holding up her hands, “it was the most lighthearted novel I have with me.”

Harry sits down on the sofa beside her and elbows her softly.

“So you're giving him all the books? Better watch it with the sad ones, yeah?”

Hermione's eyes stay on him longer than he is strictly comfortable with but her face finally lights up in a small smile.

“No sad ones, then.”

He nods.

“Much obliged,” his eyes find Draco again.

“So, Bridget Jones not to your liking then?”

 

Draco is still blushing a rather violent red and Pansy lets out a high pitched sound that is a mixture of laughter and a snort.

“Oh yes, he absolutely adores it. What's not to like about unrealistic chick-lit?”

Harry shrugs.

“Why do you think it's unrealistic, though?”

Pansy raises one eyebrow.

“One sentence, Potter: 'I like you very much. Just as you are.'”

Harry blinks at her.

“That is a reasonable thing to say,” he starts and she just stares at him.

“Are you mad? Would you ever say that to someone you have a crush on?”

Harry thinks about it for a second.

“Absolutely, yes. I mean, as far as those quotes go, I can think of worse, yeah? I mean. So many versions of 'I love you more than I can stand and it hurts so bad' are far worse. That one actually sounds genuine and nice and like something I would say to my friends,” he looks at Ron, suddenly horrified, “actually, I think I have said something similar to you once, Ron.”

 

Ron pretends to gag and laughs.

“I really hope you didn't mean it that way because this would feel pretty weird coming from a guy I consider my brother,” he grins at Harry, shooting a sideway glance at Draco and then wiggles his eyebrows.

“I think Harry should say it to someone, though. Like if you think you can mean it without feeling weird about it and if you can say it genuinely and true, then I think you should say it to someone,” his eyes dart to Draco and back again.

Pansy seems to catch on because she is instantly on board.

“I mean if you are so sure of yourself.”

 

Harry shrugs. He is nervous but he also kind of feels like this could be the moment in which he indirectly tells Draco how he feels. Draco obviously has the hots for his co-Slytherin Quidditch player so he suspects nothing will ever come of it anyway, but it could be nice. It could lighten his emotional load. If he doesn't fuck this up, of course.

“Cool. Who should I say it to?” he says, trying to sound bored.

Ron smirks.

“Well I think we have already established you've said it to me. And no way you're saying it to my girlfriend, you perv, but other than that, feel free,” he says and gestures at Draco and Pansy.

 

Draco looks at him, his mouth a straight line, cheeks still slightly red. He looks weirdly disheveled even though every hair seems to be exactly where Draco wants it to be. _Artfully tousled,_ Harry's mind supplies as he thinks back to the conversation on the Quidditch stands.

 

He nods and turns to Draco.

“Malfoy. I like you very much. Just as you are.”

He stares at him, willing himself to stay calm. Draco's eyes widen a fraction and Harry thinks for a second he is going to say something but he simply jumps up, turns to Pansy and spits: “I fucking hate you,” before storming out of the common room.

 

The pause that follows is absolutely suffocating. Nobody says a word. Harry just sighs:

“Was it something I said?” he asks shakily, trying to lighten the mood. He feels Ron's hand on his shoulder and is met with a small smile.

“Nah, mate. It was us, we went too far.”

And with that, they all stand up and leave. Leave Harry alone on the sofa, leave him alone with his thoughts.

Leave him alone with the knowledge that he just told Draco he liked him and Draco fled. Actually fled.

Harry sighs.

He really has to get over this stupid crush or it will end badly for him. He just knows it.

 

 

 


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please listen to this gem of a song while reading :) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K_PQ4fRQ5Kc  
> The book only talks about a song called "Landslide" as far as I remember (and when I re-read the part) but I cannot imagine any other song playing :)

> “I just want you to know that you’re very special… and the only reason I’m telling you is that I don’t know if anyone else ever has.”  
>  ― Stephen Chbosky,  The Perks of Being a Wallflower 
> 
>  

The next time Harry sees Draco read, his breath hitches. Actually hitches. As in straight-out-of-a-muggle-romance-movie catches in his throat and makes him forget to breathe for a second. And light headed. It makes him very, very light headed. 

 

Because Malfoy is sitting in the courtyard in one of the windows. Wind is softly blowing through his hair, making it sway like calming little waves. And then there is the flower. Because there is a flower. In Malfoy's hair. An actual honest-to-god daisy flower is poking out from above his ear. 

 

Harry has long given up any pretense of being subtle (not that he's ever been good at that) and strolls over, careful not to trip and fall because  _can you imagine_ ...

He cannot take his eyes off Malfoy's flower and the small smile playing around Malfoy's lips as he reads.

 

“Hey Malfoy,” Harry says, hoping to sound casual.

 

Draco's head snaps up.

“Potter,” he says, the smile stays. 

 

With a start, Harry notices that he hasn't thought much beyond this point. Doesn't really have a topic ready, so he blurts:

“Nice flower,” and points awkwardly at the daisy.

 

A small blush spreads over Draco's cheeks and he giggles ( _giggles_ ...) before he says:

“Luna gave it to me. She said it made me look softer,” he shrugs, “whatever that is supposed to mean but I stopped asking, you know?”

 

Harry nods. He does know. He also knows that he wants to find Luna and wrap her in a bone crushing hug for putting that flower in Malfoy's hair.

 

Draco's fingertips slowly trace the white, fragile petals.

“She also said that it stands for innocence and new beginnings,” he snorts.

“which is even more confusing.”

 

Harry shrugs.

“Not all that confusing though...” 

He really doesn't want to spell out that he thinks that Malfoy is punishing himself way too hard for what he did during the war. He doesn't want to bring it up at all, not when Malfoy is sitting here looking soft and pure and beautiful. 

“And anywho, I think Neville went on about how the new beginnings can be attributed to love? Because the daisy is usually the flower with which you do the 'they love me, they love me not' business with, yeah?”

 

Draco stares blankly at him.

“The what?”

 

“You know...,” he motions with his hands,” when you have a daisy and you pull a petal off and you start with 'they love me' and you pull the next petal off and say 'they love me not' and you go on like that on repeat until there is only one petal left and whichever that is means that the person you're thinking about loves you or... well, not. It's superstition though, so it probably isn't quite your...”

 

Before Harry can finish that sentence however, Draco pulls the flower out of his hair and stares at it intently. His blush creeps back in as he pulls a petal off.

“He loves me. Like this?”

Harry nods, eyes transfixed on Draco's concentrated face.

“He loves me not,” Draco continues, pulling another petal off.

“He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not...”

 

Harry thinks he should probably see a Healer soon what with the way he finds himself breathing irregularly more and more often these days. Draco stares at the last petal and Harry stares at Draco when the former pulls the last petal off, a small smile appearing on his face, and whispers:

“He loves me.”

 

He looks up and straight at Harry, grinning.

“This is a stupid game, Potter. Totally bonkers.”

 

Harry laughs.

“Yep. But you know how it is, a bit of superstition is always nice, yeah?”

 

Draco leans back and rests his head against the brick stones behind him.

“Hmm. We should get a flower for you, too if you're so into superstition.”

 

Harry holds up his hands in mock surrender.

“I'm good, thank you. Nothing like a stupid flower telling you you're not loved.”

 

The grin on Draco's face turns soft once again, observing Harry carefully. Harry gets nervous and starts shuffling his feet.

“I'm sure you are very loved, Potter,” he says in a low voice that does things to Harry's insides. 

He only snaps out of it, when Draco clears his throat.

 

“Actually Potter, it is good that you're here. I have a question. A... pick-up truck, what is it?”

 

Harry looks at Draco, confused for a second, until he notices that Draco has marked a place in his book with his finger and is now staring at Harry intently.

 

“It's a sort of car. A muggle car.”

 

“Like the one you and Weasley flew in second year?”

 

Harry snorts and nods.

“Something like that. There is usually a space in the back to put things. Like large things. And uh, to be transported. It's a bigger car basically.”

 

Draco nods and turns back to his book.

“I wish I could understand.”

 

When he doesn't say anything more, Harry nudges him with his elbow. 

“Understand what?”

 

Draco quickly shakes his head and then shows the book to Harry.

_The Perks of Being a Wallflower_ , Harry reads on the cover and smiles. How very fitting for Malfoy to read that while sitting on a wall with a flower in his hair. Dramatic git.

 

Harry reads the scene where Charlie and his friends drive through the night in their pick up truck, listening to music and only stops reading when Draco says:

“ _'And I swear, in that moment we were infinite.'_ It is such a beautiful phrase and I wish to understand it but I have never driven in a car before. Does it have something to do with the car?”

 

Harry looks at him and hoists himself up into the window, sitting next to Draco.

“No, it's... he's there with his friends. And he is happy and he feels like... he feels like this moment could go on forever. Like he is in this moment and he feels invincible. His best friends are there, the music is good, the lights are good... Sorry, I'm shit at explaining this. I'm sure you've felt like this before, though?”

 

He sees Draco's blank expression.

“Happy? Just... happy?”

 

“Yeah just a bit more. You know the happiness that is bubbling up in you and you think you are so happy you can't possibly contain it? And You kind of have this out of body experience where you are looking down at yourself and think: This is the moment. This is how it should stay _forever?_ ”

 

Draco shakes his head slowly. “Honestly, Potter. You are such a sap.”

 

“Yeah. But it's a nice feeling. You've felt like it before, yeah?”

 

Draco says nothing, just bites his bottom lip absently before shaking his head.

“I don't think I have, actually.”

 

“What about Quidditch?”

  
Draco thinks for a moment and shakes his head again.

“No. Happy, yes. But not what you're describing, not... that.”

 

Harry nods. Somehow uneasy. He suddenly has the strong urge to make Malfoy feel infinite. To make him  _feel._ An idea pops into his head and he's said it before he can even think about it:

 

“Meet me here, after dark. Around eight. We're going flying,” he announces happily and jumps off the windowsill. 

He grins at Draco one more time before he hurries back to the Common Room. He needs to find Hermione. He needs help if he wants to pull this off right.

 

***  
  
Harry is very satisfied with himself when he arrives in the courtyard at ten to eight. He is giddy and excited and he doesn't think he has ever been this nervous in his entire life. 

Hermione had just laughed when he came to her with his request, knowing full well what was happening.

 

When it turns eight, Harry is slightly concerned that Malfoy won't show up. Why would he? It's not like Harry and him just  _hung out._ ..

Just when he was about to give into his insecurities and properly freak out, a blond head walks around the corner. Draco looks somewhat guarded. The easiness that was there between them earlier in the day seems forgotten when he stops in front of Harry.

 

“So? What are we doing?”

 

Harry picks up the two brooms he's already prepared and propped up against the wall beside him and hands one to Draco.

 

“I told you, we're going flying.”

 

Draco takes the broom and looks even more confused than before.

 

“But... why?”

 

Harry grins.

 

“You'll see,” he says, going for a sexy kind of mysterious but judging from Draco's expression, all he managed to do was annoy him.

 

“Whatever.”

 

Harry nods and mounts his broom. He pulls out his wand and whispers a couple of spells in quick succession. He really hopes he did them right. He had practiced with Hermione earlier but he was still a bit nervous.

 

Mid-spell, he pulls his wand up and slowly circles it over his head until a shimmering bubble surrounds him and Draco.

 

Malfoy stares at the bubble, slightly put out.

“What the hell, Potter?” he asks and just as he wants to touch it, the bubble turns transparent.

 

“Don't worry, you'll see what it does in a second. Ready?”

 

Draco shrugs and mounts his broom nevertheless.

“Do I ever get a say in anything when you've made up your mind?”

 

Harry doesn't really know why but that makes him smile. Like Draco cannot say no to him. Like Draco is a victim to his charm. He almost giggles when the thought comes into his head. _Yeah right_ , he thinks, _when hell freezes over_.

 

Harry pushes himself from the ground and takes off into the sky. He doesn't really have a destination in mind, seeing as Hermione told him the spells would work wherever they went, but Harry figured the darker the surroundings, the better and so he took off in the direction of the now dark Quidditch pitch. He could feel Draco right behind him and let himself fall back so that they were flying side by side and with a quick flick of his wand, he activated the enchantments he'd placed around them earlier.

 

There are a thousand twinkling lights around them, almost like fireflies surrounding them, colouring both of them in a faint glow. Harry's eyes are fixed on Draco's face, waiting for a reaction and he is more than elated, when Draco's eyes widen in surprise.

It is in that moment, that Fleetwood Mac's “Landslide” begins to play in perfect quality all around them. Draco starts to look about himself, obviously impressed.

 

“How... it sounds like it's directly in my ears... how did you do this?”

 

Harry shrugs.

 

“I'm a wizard, ya know?”

 

Draco shoots him a glare but his face splits into a smile a second later.

 

Harry's face softens as he watches Draco take in the lights and music with glee.

Draco turns and faces Harry.

“And this will follow us wherever we go?”

 

Harry nods.

 

A wicked grin appears on Malfoy's lips.

“You up for a race?”

 

The image of an illuminated Malfoy smirking at him and the song picking up speed does it for Harry. His breath catches – again.

 

“What? Or are you scared, Potter?” Draco raises an eyebrow expectantly and Harry snorts.

 

“You wish, Malfoy,” he grits out and as soon as he's said it, they are off.

 

They fly as fast as they can and it doesn't take long for Harry to be out of breath. But it's not just the exertion that's making breathing difficult for Harry. It's the feeling of being in this moment he wants to last forever. He wants to see Draco's face split with happiness forever. He wants to listen to this song forever. He wants...

 

“Hey Malfoy,” he shouts when they drift apart a couple of meters.

“How do you feel?”

 

Draco closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them, his grin seems to become even wider.

 

“I feel infinite.”

 

He laughs and it seems to just bubble out of him. It sounds a bit manic and it's the most precious sound in Harry's ears.

 

“Harry,” Draco shouts again.

“Harry I feel infinite!”

 


	6. Plus One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the overwhelming support on this fic! I loved writing this and it fills my heart with joy to know that so many of you liked reading it :) Thank you very much!

> “You smile upon your friend to-day,  
>  To-day his ills are over;  
>  You hearken to the lover's say,  
>  And happy is the lover.  
>    
>  'Tis late to hearken, late to smile,  
>  But better late than never:  
>  I shall have lived a little while  
>  Before I die for ever.”  
>  ― A.E. Housman,  A Shropshire Lad 

 

Draco Malfoy thinks of himself as a rather straightforward bloke. Especially now, after the war, where he finally has the time to figure himself out. Figure out who he is and what he wants.

 

He finally got to decide on liking and disliking different things for himself. Not taking into account what his father would have to say about that. In the beginning he'd made up whole lists of things he disliked: formal robes, whiskey, the word 'abominable' [he doesn't even know why], hairspray and other products to keep his hair shiny and stiff, and, eventually: girls.

Here is what he decided he liked: Muggle literature, coffee [especially with some sugary syrups in them], ripped Muggle denims, and, eventually: boys. One boy in particular if he was being honest.

 

And that one boy was being a completely and total pain in Draco's arse.

 

If he is completely honest with himself, he is pining for Harry Potter. The thought alone makes him want to pinch the bridge of his nose in aggravation. Because that figures. Not only is he bent, his heart is set on none other than the saviour of the wizarding world. The golden boy. The boy who lived twice. And no matter how nice he was being to Draco in their eighth year, Draco knew that nothing would ever come of it. Mainly because Draco was still the boy who was on the wrong side of the war, no matter how many times he played chess with Ron and exchanged books with Hermione. He was still the boy who'd bullied Harry and his friends for seven years, broke his nose, called him names.

 

Draco couldn't think about it without getting sick.

 

The way Harry behaved around him lately made his feelings much, much more difficult. Maybe it was all of the romance in the novels Draco was reading but sometimes he let himself flirt just a little when he was talking to Harry. Usually, he always caught himself in time just before he could make a right arse out of himself. He couldn't help it, though.

 

Harry didn't seem to mind either and Draco was still in some sort of bliss like state after Harry had taken him flying. The music, the lights, Harry beside him... the book and Harry were right after all because he definitely was feeling infinite. His heart is heavy with the love he carried around for the Gryffindor and they haven't really spoken since their nightly adventure. Which has been over a week ago now.

 

When Draco enters the common room, he stops short. Because he hasn't seen Harry in over a week and now he is just _there_. Lying across one of the sofas in front of the fireplace, nose buried in a book. Draco's heart skips a beat. He runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips absent mindedly. He needs to say something. Wants to say something, anything.

He is just about to say hello, taking a step or two towards Harry, when his eyes fall to the cover of the book Harry is reading and he freezes.

 

“You're reading Housman?” he asks breathlessly, all kinds of polite conversation discarded.

Harry lowers the book and emerald green eyes land on Draco. He smiles, slowly.

“I am. I'm quite in love with him, I think.”

 

Draco's eyes widen. There are so many things he wants to say. So many things that are all stuck in his throat because he couldn't make a sound even if he tried.

 

“His poems are quite extraordinary,” Harry says and flicks through the book, “I've never heard of him but Hermione gave this to me yesterday and I figured I'd give it a try.”

 

Draco wills himself to move. He walks toward Harry and sits down beside him on the floor. Harry turns his head to the side and looks at him, smiling.

 

They are much closer than Draco had anticipated when he first sat down. But he just couldn't let Harry reading his favourite poems go. He had to... do something.

 

“Which one is your favourite?” he asks quietly, as if afraid he'd startle Harry and he would run off.

 

Harry thinks for a moment and begins to turn a couple of pages.

 

“I like this one,” he says and studies Draco's face as he holds the book out for Draco to read. Draco's breath catches in his throat.

“That's my favourite,too, ” he almost whispers.

 

Harry smiles at him. All soft and warm and Draco feels much, much too vulnerable in this moment. And that says a lot about him because only a few weeks earlier, he'd been lying in Harry's arms, sobbing. The memory alone still makes him blush in embarrassment.

 

“ _Oh, when I was in love with you,_

_Then I was clean and brave,_

_And miles around the wonder grew_

_How well did I behave._

 

_And now the fancy passes by,_

_And nothing will remain,_

_And miles around they'll say that I_

_Am quite myself again.”_

 

Draco quotes. He closes his eyes halfway through and a sad smile forms on his lips. He loves this poem.

He only opens his eyes, when he hears Harry snort.

“What?” he demands.

 

“Nothing,” Potter grins widely.

“Just... figures that you're pretentious enough to learn it by heart.”

 

“It's not pretentiousness if I've learnt it by re-reading it so often I couldn't forget it if I tried.”

 

That makes Harry look at him again. He searches Draco's face and Draco feels quite uncomfortable being regarded with such an intense stare. Harry does that sometimes.

 

“I think it's a load of bull,” Harry admits finally, closing the book and letting it fall on his stomach before placing one arm behind his head for comfort. He stares at the ceiling.

 

“ _Now the fancy passes by_ , my arse. The bloke was still heads over heels for the other bloke and was just too scared to admit it.”

 

“Admitting it is hard sometimes. You can get hurt when you're too open with your feelings. And obviously, his weren't reciprocated. It's only natural for him to shield his heart,” Draco counters, switching his position in favour to sit on his knees.

 

He can see Harry's brow furrow, his lips slightly parted as he still looks upwards.

 

“I suppose,” Harry finally says.

“But what If he never even told the other person how he felt, what then? There is so much lost love in that poem. Eight lines of complete and utter pining in my opinion.”

 

Draco's eyes widen. He had a similar discussion with Hermione, only that she was of the opinion that the speaker of the poem was really definitely just getting over his crush. Draco had argued against it but hearing it from Harry? Made his heart flutter violently.

 

“Of course he's pining. He's heart broken. He's sad. And everyone else wouldn't have approved. See how everyone keeps telling him he's himself again? As if he wasn't himself before. As if loving this other person changed him...”

 

“Love does change people.”

 

“But in my experience, getting over a crush doesn't always change you back. It changes you in a different way.”

 

He didn't mean to say that. It just came out.

 

Harry says nothing but Draco can feel his eyes on him while Draco fusses with a loose thread on the carpet.

 

“Who changed you?” Harry finally asks.

 

“Nothing, Potter, noone. Forget I said anything.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Silence again. Draco can see Harry opening and closing his mouth, trying to say something. Draco makes it easier for both of them:

  
“Do you reckon he pined for the other person all his life or do you think it ever goes away?”

 

At least he thinks he makes it easier, until Harry stays silent. And then Draco thinks he's fucked it all up. And gave too much away again.

 

“I think that loving the right person never goes away. It will always be there. And then there are people you fancy and yeah, that can pass. But not if you truly love someone. I think that'll stay with you forever.”

 

Draco nods.

 

“I think so, too. You know, people say that he truly got over the person he wrote the poem about. But I read a biography on Housman and apparently he really didn't. But the guy he was in love with was straight and got married, so...” he trails off.

 

“That's tragic.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It's why all his poems are so sad. I mean obviously the war poems are sad because of the war. But... the love poems. They are all sad.”

“Yeah,” Draco agrees again, “I love them.”

 

Harry nods, “me too.”

 

Draco has the sudden urge to tell Harry everything. To just tell him, consequences be damned. They are in their last year after all and if Housman can deal with the love of his life being straight, then so can Draco, right? Except he doesn't think that Harry is... completely straight that is. Which would make rejection even more soul-crushing.

He bites his lip, thinks about it until Harry interrupts his thoughts:

 

“ _He would not stay for me; and who can wonder?_

_He would not stay for me to stand and gaze._

_I shook his hand and tore my heart in sunder_

_And went with half my life about my way,_ ” he reads from the book in a low and serious voice.

 

Something in Draco just snaps.

 

He leans forward and presses his lips to Harry's. His hands find their way into Harry's mess of hair as he holds on and closes his eyes.

The angle is weird and it is only then that he thinks that Harry will push him off any second. It is only then, that he notices that Harry isn't kissing him back.

He wants to pull back, wants to apologise, wants to scream and shout “I'm sorry,” over and over as he does in his head. Just in that moment, Harry seems to snap out of his stupor and moves his lips against Draco's. He opens his mouth slightly and their kiss becomes more heated. And a little bit desperate, Draco thinks as he fists his hand in Harry's shirt, afraid to let go.

The angle is still weird. Harry is still lying on his back and Draco is still half draped over him, kissing him sideways but he doesn't care. He especially doesn't care when Harry's hand sneaks up to the back of his neck and keeps holding him in place.

The other hand struggles to get the book out between them and Draco has to laugh mid-kiss.

He breaks the kiss and holds his breath for a second. While he is well aware, that Harry actually did in fact _kiss him back_ , he is still terribly scared of his reaction.

 

He imagines shouting, Harry's face scrunching up in disgust when he comprehends what they just did. Instead, Harry is smiling at him. His soft smile that he rarely uses and that Draco is quite sure has never been directed at him. The fond smile he thought was reserved for Ron and Hermione and sometimes Neville. Not him, never him.

 

“Uh,” Draco says intelligently.

“I'm... sorry.”

 

“What for?”

 

“I... er, jeez Potter, must you really make me spell it out?” he huffed, “I'm sorry for... kissing you just now. Out of the blue. I kind of... I mean that was sort of out of the blue.”

 

Harry laughs. A low and content sort of chuckle that surprises Draco.

Harry runs a hand through his hair and sits up, patting the now vacant spot on the sofa next to him.

 

“Yeah, angle was a bit off. Other than that though? I only have one question.”

 

Draco stands up from the floor and lets himself fall back on the sofa, next to Harry. Kind of glad that he doesn't have to look directly at him.

 

“Shoot,” he says, meaning anything but. He really doesn't want to discuss this. Not here, not now, not ever.

 

“Did you... kiss me because I like the same poem as you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Silence.

 

Draco turns around and sees Harry deep in thought.

He sighs.

 

“But not only because of that. It's, uh... I'm really sorry if I'll make you uncomfortable with this but uhm... the first poem? Is kind of... I mean I tried to get over you for so, so long. Which is why the poem gets to me like it does. Because I feel like I never truly will. Because... I suppose... what I'm saying is that I kind of like like you in a way that won't ever go away,” he squeezes his eyes shut in mortification at what he just said.

“Oh shit, this is humiliating.”

 

Harry laughs and Draco wants nothing more than to protest. To tell him off for laughing about his feelings. To tell him that sure, he doesn't have to love him back but for fucks sake _do not laugh at him_.

 

But then Harry slowly closes his hand around Draco's and twines their fingers together lazily. And everything Draco was about to say flies out of his mind completely until there is nothing but silence.

 

“What?” Harry snorts, “you think that I spend an afternoon in the library researching light and music spells and then practising them for just everyone?”

 

He brings their hands up to his face and presses a soft kiss to Draco's knuckles.

 

“I'm glad, you know. That you just kissed me out of the blue. Fuck, I'm glad I picked up the bloody book because it got you to do it. Because I certainly would have been too cowardly. I definitely would have said good-bye to you in a couple of months and _went with half my life about my way_.”

 

Draco's ears are ringing as he cannot take his eyes off their joint hands. He licks his lips.

 

“Are you saying... what are you saying, Potter?”

 

“I'm saying, _Malfoy_ ,” comes the low and haughty reply from directly next to his ear and fuck, Draco did not notice him coming so close, “that I am quite in love with you as well.”

 

Harry presses a kiss to Draco's jaw and sits back, smiling. Seeming quite content with himself.

 

“What?”

 

Harry rolls his eyes.

 

“Come on, you heard me. There is no freaking way that you did not just hear what I said.”

 

A slow smile spreads over Draco's features as he gets up and sits on the couch with his knees tucked underneath him.

 

“Oh I heard you loud and clear. I just wanna hear it again,” he grins.

 

Harry studies him for a moment and sighs.

 

“I love you, Draco Malfoy. Heaven knows why because you can be such an annoying little bugger, but I do.”

 

That is enough for Draco and he swings his legs over Harry's lap, straddling him and pressing his lips to Harry's once more.

This time, Harry doesn't need time to adjust and his hands immediately find Draco's hips and hold on.

Even as they are kissing, Draco can't quite believe what is happening. There is a flutter in his belly that seems to make him sick and he stifles a giggle when he presses his mouth to Harry's in a butterfly kiss.

 

“You know, I thought the infinite feeling was the best feeling there was in the world,” he starts, opening his eyes and looking into Harry's directly. He reaches up and plays with a strand of hair that falls in Harry's face.

“But this, blimey, this is so much better.”

 

The smile that spreads over Harry's features is brilliant. And the happy laugh that escapes him is the most beautiful sound Draco has ever heard. Draco presses their foreheads together and thinks that he'll have to find another favourite poet. Because from now on, he has a feeling that he'll be more able to relate to happy love poems. With a happy ending. He starts thinking about all the possibilities he and Harry will have once they leave Hogwarts and only stops for a second to think if he is being too presumptuous. One look into Harry's open and happy face though makes him discard this thought just as quickly as it came because Harry Potter will definitely be his future.

 


End file.
